Chronicles of Snow: Chapter 1 Snow Patrol
by jonslow
Summary: Jon Snow has a dark obsession which is threatening his career and closest friends. Only Sam can tame the wild beast, but what happens when an innocent bystander is consumed in the darkness that is Snow. Wild tale of grilled cheese, drum and bass and selfies. Pleased be warned readers of 15 and over are most recommended.


Chronicles of Snow: Snow and Sam, on a whirlwind adventure.

The Snow Patrol. Chapter 1.

**NOTE: When reading it is encouraged that when a song is mentioned you should play it to create the vibe. In addition grammatical errors have been created for amusement: Be Amused.**

Grilled Cheese, in my mouth.

"CUT" hollers the director vigorously.

Jon looks wistfully at the bulb lights beyond his head, grilled cheese is again on the mind. Sam, who shuffles coyly in full Crow garb, understands the lust and temptation for that greasy yellow meat. His stomach rumbles momentarily, everyone on set pretending they didn't hear yet in actuality it was as if the wildlings had blown 10 foghorns.

The director edges towards Jon, who looks as though paralyzed.

'Jon, my lad, I told you to stop thinking of Daenerys' hot bod during shooting- I understand, but we simply cannot fire Dario Nahalis to satisfy your beastly needs'

Jon flicks his head to the floor, a gormless expression of pure angst shadowing his bloddless face. Then, in an outburst of frustration as if a Whitewalker had called to his brethren, Jon screams.

'NAAY, brother, thou does not comprehend this suffering'

The director's flesh grows cold, speckled with straight, sticking up hairs.

'Jon, my lad, Ayy, I can't comprehemd. You were always far too profound for this show.'

Jon is disgusted. The director is stupid. He does not even recall a very personal conversation they sharred intimately a fortnight before whilst devouring a box of thorntons and Guylian chocolates.

They had discussed Jon's most personal difficulty; an obsessive desire for… Grilled Cheese (wide eyes star in horreur)

Jon sat in a chair outside the studio, his mouth watering, eys glazed; a lifeless body in a lively world. The director approaches, secretly interested in Jon (this is very secret).

'Jon, my lad, you look gormless, don't tell my its Daenerys again' (secretly in pain).

'Director, there is a problem. I don't know who to go to right now… Robb Stark gave up on me a long, long time ago. Long.'

The Director sensing an opportunity to become close shyly touches Jon with hand, sensations course up Jon who flickers eyes back to make it seem like this is not a 'bigthing'. 'Jon, you can tell me all, I know you know thing. Not nothing. The way you looke at the other actors is so insightful, I mean, I agree with your secrets insights in your eyes- Like, Cercei am I right, her acting is so obvious…' He runs out of things to say at this point so stares traumatically out of this akward silence descending.

Jon has a swuler- sweaty upper lip alert. He begins his tale…

'It isn't Cersei' The air becomes serious and dramatic, Jon's eyes become focused, looking into the sky glazed- he allows a tear to fall. 'Director, I have a problem. I'M LOSING EVERYONE TO THIS PROBLEMNMNM. MY WORLD IS FADING TO NOTHINGNESS, BLACKNESS OF CROWS. MY SKIN CRAWLS WITH DISGUST, I AM BECOMING A WHITEWALKER, A GHOST IN THE SHADOWS, LURMING. ALWAYS WAITING, WAINTING, WAITING.' He begins to struggle.

'JON, what is it, JON?'

The Whitewler like scream returns. 'IT'S THE GRILLED CHEEEEEEEEEESE'. A spray of Jon's saliva blurrs the Director's vision.

Silence. Jame Lannister walks past awkwardly on the way to the toilet.

Sam knows. Jon wants his fix, and Sam has it.

Sam calls to Jon, almost inaudibly as he fears that the plan will be known. Jon, looks up, within an ocean of pallid, dreamless faces. Sam hollers to his home boy, Jon. But before Sam can advance, a large head obstructs his view. It is Max, a die hard fan lurching over, shoulders swaying as if wielding a sword- he barges past Sam, straight to SNOW. Man with a plan.

'Hi, Max here, I. LOVE. YOU…. And your work' Jon Snow is not listening, the pranging need for cheese dilates his pupils. 'The way you portray the character is truly mesmerising, I try to portray your characteristics in everyday life, I'm very much amethod actor myself, Jon. I'm on my third novel actually, I would desire foir you to play me, it is an autobiographical action novel Jon, you will have the opportunity to bed several of my brides in return'.

Jon looks at Max quizzically the with one deft movement of his fake sword, he draws the plastic blade to Max's throat and lookes up, his eyes cast in a darkness so intensely wrought.

'Listen boy, get me to McDonalds, NOW or you get a piece of Snow' Max's eyes are in awe.

'Ofcourse my lord, truly you are the man I fell in love with. I suppose we are going on a…. Snow Patrol'. Max grins in accomplishment. Both Sam and Snow look away in complete disgust.

At the Drive THRU waiting line for McDonalds Max is pissing himself, a warm trickle running down his leg, a warmth he could never have. Max had never felt a love like this before; sat in that car with Snow was like the day the world began to revolve again. But, this time it revolved around Snow. Max plays the tape with the theme chune of 'Friends' it felt so fitting. Max begins to sing the lyrics to Snow; Jon looks away out the window, he is beginning to fear for his life.

Abruptly, Max locks the car doors, a sadistic grin on his face. He pulls out a small concoction from his pocket-dear readers, we all know what this is.

"I had been saving this for my previous love, a hot young blonde I was crushing on in a festival, I folllwed her round, she was sorta freaked out, but I pursued, the connection irrevocably strong. You know Jon, you and I, we are very much the same, we kill for what we want, like when you fucked that red head, do you think that was okay with me? I'll let it slide for now," Max loosens the top of the bottle and then slyly undones his flies, but not sly enough as Jon already protectively shields his area. Sam creeps up and whispers…

'Hodor'. They both understand what this means.

In two seconds Max has been fucked over so hard that he is left on the pavement, carless and destitute of love. Is 'eart breaking faster than Tyrion can say 'whore'. However, Jon secretly keeps the concoction to sell on Game Of Thrones bidlist, or possibly to use… but that's for another story.

The car drives so slowly that Max is able to crawl beside, still in hope of being admitted in, tapping on the door like a cripple with his fake sword, sweat from a weeks marathon of Game of Thrones coagulated to his chest hair. He notices the tattoo of the Stark Emblem upon his hand, giving him the strength- Ironic by Alanis Morisette plays in the car and he sings along tearfully.

Sam unrolls the window…

'What is your name boy?' Cries Snow with unrealised frustration… possibly sexual as the sweat t shirt clings to Max's fanatically toned torso.

'Max' Max hollers proudly clinging to the window.

'WRONG' Snow screams hoarsely, smacking the car door onto Max' hairy hand. 'You REEK, Your name is Reek'.

Max having already witnessed season 3 episode 10 leaks out a cry both in pain and the knowledge of his imminent fate.

'REEK master, my name is REEK' His body heaves with the sorrow.

'RIGHT. Now get in the car batty boy- or should I say Reek.' Snow, at this moment, jeers at the mixtape playing No Rain by Blind Melon. 'What are you, some dickless dogshit ? Fucking Blind Melon, hippy shit- where is the death metal'. Sam spits coarsely on the furnishing of the car, Max cries internally. Sam nods to Snow, who is suddenly wearing a thick chain, a gold tooth and a snapback cap- he is the Mac Daddy… of McDonalds.

'Listen Dickless, we are fast approaching the counter and we need your pin number. Natwest, I take it?'

'No… HSBC' Max shivers submissively, head twitching. Sam licks his lips- it is not certain if he is eager for food or for Max at this point.

'You Reeking piece of piss pot, what are ya doing the best interest rate is Santander' Max lets out a sob.

'Sam, do 'im'. Sam keys Max's face creating a Tyrion like gash- Max notices the reflection in Jon's golden tooth and his tears die.

Snow plays The Smiths 'How Soon Is Now' and all is silent as they dramatically cruise up to the counter. Three heads revolve in unison as the guitar riff sounds into the air. The Mcdonalds worker regards them knowingly.

Her lips part to form three single words…

'Three . Grilled. Cheeses.'

Jon Snow winces at the tempting words, and peering from under a fringe of greased black hair nods silently. Morrsey's voice warbles from the car ' I AM HUMAN AND I NEED TO BE LOVED' Jon Snow tilts his head back and enjoys the feeling of pure power.

Jon Snow inserts his own mixtape securely kept in the pocket of his cape. 'Lil Jon'… 'Turn Down For What'. Sam and Jon look to each other, heads bobbing in sequence, then the bass drop… Both flinging arms wildly like real wiggers- Sam has perfected the bootytap move and threatens Max with his crude hands.

'TURN DOWN FOR WHAT' They scream, beholding the steaming grilled cheeses propped onto the headboard. Jon Snow turns to max laughing lewdly, bootytapping the air so violently that Max yelps (in excitement). They roll into an abandoned carpark, at this moment Snow receives a call from 'Big Booty'.

'Yo Deanerys, what up Guurl' It was not a question for all he really cares about is that Big Booty- now we cannot judge him for this as he has been around the seven kingdoms, he never spake the language, butt, fortunately… that booty don't need explainging.

Snow and Sam pull out their grilled cheese, nostrils flaring at the cheesy sensation that is drifting up their noses, their mouth drooling. Uknowingly, Sam dripples onto his cloak, a sign of shame, not even Vanish can get rid of that shit! Sam begins to booty shake to Missy Elliot, looking up and down his grilled cheese…

"O'mama, I'm going to devour you," Sam drools.

When the bass drops, Jon Snow drops his arms, his eyes roll into the back of his skull, he begins to tremble spasmodically, his body moving to the music. Max tries to ignore the sensation, the power of the bass, but, when he is at his most venerable they strike. Snow grabs him, and Sam pulls off his t-shirt. Max lets out a grin, this is all he ever wanted. But, his dreams were short lived. In a swift movement, Sam gets the third grilled cheese and brandishes Max's pale, cold flesh. A scream erupts into the universe. Max's face turns blue, his eyes bulging from his sockets, he feels the grease enter his bloodstream, his flesh burning away. Sam and Jon watch in awe. Yet the worst is yet to come. Or not come in the case of Max's unrealised desires. The Extra. Third Grilled Cheese is within Max's bleary sight, tears skirmishing his pinkened rims- yet he can determine its form.

He begins to whimper, gesturing primitively to the packaged delight- grunting like a disabled ape.

"Shall we give him his grilled cheese yet?" Sam asks eagerly

"No, first let me take a selfie," Snow replies.

Immersed in both the bass and the perfection of his rosebud lips, grease forming a balm accentuating their veluptuousness, Sam pouts, double chin unavoidable but ignored, Max's eyes white with emotional fatigue- as if pranging out. Jame Lannister replies to Snow's tag 'living with my bitches'- Jame is amused in the way sophisticated older men often are, curious at Max's comatose state questioning Snow's activities off set.

'I don't know what my eyes are seeing'.

Sam releases gas. Max receives the full brunt, gagging, yet still yearning the fatty cheese. Snow reaches into the side pocket, and pulls out a beret, he analyses it curiously, then turns to Max suspiciously.

"No…wait…that's my lady killer," Max cries, but only faintly, the smell of farts and brandished flesh fills the air.

'HOLLER' Snow cries like a Native American call to troupes.

'WHOSE THAT BITCH?'

Snow places the beret upon his greasy curls. Sam's lips curl in admiration at his superior. Max's soul is in pair, he manages to whimper,

'That's 100% cashmere'.

Snow beholds his gloriousness…

'I am king of the North….'. The conviction sets in and his eyes glaze in realisations unknown to all mortal men. He… Jon Snow… is the KING of the NORTH!.

Sam's eyes are burnt out of his skull whilst Max screams 'Spoiler Alert, this is not in the BOOKS- UnaccepTABLE!', the glory of Jon Snow at this moment is incomprehensible.

Consumed in self portraiture upon his Samsung, Jon Snow sends a tearful message to all of the Game Of Thrones cast protesting his realised destiny as King.

So far he has received no replies.

Chapter ends upon 'Don't you Forget About Me' as the car swerves maniacally into the distance, the sun setting before them.

Published and edited by: Hodor & Hodor.


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